Closure
by Power of the Pen12
Summary: Just a few months after adapting to life with Bonnie, Jessie meets with Emily one last time. She deals.


As far as owners went, Bonnie was a top-notch kid, one Jessie grew to adore within the first few days of dramatic, feminine play.

The little girl showered them all with every bit of love a toy could want—and watching her friends' theatrical sides exercised regularly was enough to keep the cowgirl in stitches whenever she dared to abandon her vacant, beaming stare. But after years of belonging to Andy, having an owner whose gender matched her own instigated little pangs of longing for Emily, her first owner, still lodged deep in Jessie's heart. It was painfully bittersweet, causing Jessie to occasionally sit on a windowsill in the dead of night, mulling over the Emily years while she was still free to move how she wished.

But Jessie did her best to enjoy her new lifestyle; and it was a fine life, too. Old friends, new ones, Buzz (en Español, every once in a while) by her side, and a kid to make happy for a luxuriously long while. Jessie forced her memories of Emily to the back of her mind, as she had always done. For a few months it worked, too.

And then Bonnie's mother had a friend over.

Bonnie was sprawled across the living room floor at the time, brow furrowed in the intensity of her game. Toys large and small, including Jessie, were squashed round a miniature table, their little limbs manipulated to bring plastic tea cups and oversized toy food to their lips. Even Bullseye had been forced into a flowery doll's hat for the occasion.

Jessie's wide-brimmed hat was fashionably askew, a homemade dress fitted clumsily over her cowgirl outfit. Bonnie spoke in a fervent whisper, speaking for each of the toys in turn, fabricating a world only they knew. When it was Jessie's turn to speak, Bonnie spoke in a voice more girlish than Jessie had ever used in her life. She could've sworn, across the way, Woody broke character for a millisecond, laughing at her good-naturedly. Internally, Jessie grinned wryly. _You can't talk, cowboy. You're wearing an apron._

Bonnie's mother and her guest could be heard laughing down the hall, gradually growing louder as they progressed closer to the living room. Bonnie abandoned the tea party for the moment, blinking up at the two women shyly. Jessie could just make out the new face out of the corner of her eye; the woman had cropped red hair down to her chin, and looked to be about Bonnie's mother's age, if not a slight bit older. She smiled down at Bonnie with the utmost affection, if not a little patronizing.

"How you've _grown_," the stranger said in overdramatic astonishment. "The last time I saw you, Bon, you were just up to here on me." Bonnie played with Jessie's braid, avoiding the adult's adoring eyes.

There was something familiar about the new woman's voice. Something behind the sweet tone she addressed Bonnie with; like the genuineness was there, but she wasn't quite sure how to express it. Jessie had heard it before. And then Bonnie's mother addressed her friend by name.

"Come on, Emily, let's let Bonnie play. If you need us, sweetie, we'll just be in the dining room, okay?"

For one thrilling second Jessie forgot she was in the company of humans, coming alive if almost imperceptibly; eyes swiveling, head adjusting slightly, her grin melting away as she stared at her first owner, now an adult, probably with kids of her own, old enough to have abandoned _their_ toys. Her plastic companions stayed rigid, though no doubt realizing who this newcomer was.

Jessie blanked her expression before she was noticed, but Emily had frozen in the hallway, gazing in wonder at the strands of yarn falling through Bonnie's fingers. Excusing herself to Bonnie's mother, Emily was by Bonnie's side in an instant, a hand on the shy girl's shoulder, searching Jessie's plastic features in wonder.

"Who's this, Bonnie?" asked Emily, not quite daring to reach out.

"Jessie," came the mumbled reply.

"Oh… I had one of these as a kid," Emily said softly. "My favorite toy. Absolute favorite. Do you mind, Bon…?"

Bonnie shrugged, and Emily plucked Jessie from her position slouched by the tea table. The passing from her new owner to her old one was almost too much for the cowgirl, forced to stay limp in Emily's palm. She wanted to shout at the girl—the woman—who'd left her in a box by the road all those years ago, but she couldn't do anything but lie there, smiling the same tireless smile, her hat crooked.

Emily corrected her hat with two fingers, hurling them both into memories of the same motion years and years ago. Emily's eyes were almost apologetic, but she blinked it away, reprimanding herself for such a silly thought.

"You know, Bonnie, this doll is incredibly rare," Emily said, in a daze.

_You left me under your bed, collecting dust, _Jessie thought miserably.

"There are a thousand people who would love to have Jessie here."

_Left me to watch you grow up without me. _

"How'd you get her, anyway? I didn't think there were any left… well, you're lucky to have her. Keep her safe, will you, love?"

_I was trapped in a box for years. I can't even enter a dark room without hyperventilating. _

"She's a special doll."

_You were my whole world._

Emily clutched Jessie to her chest while Bonnie watched protectively, and, sighing, released her back into Bonnie's universe, setting her carefully back at her place at the little table. With a gentle pat to Bonnie's hair, Emily returned to the world of grownups, of nail polish and restricted imagination and remembrance of summer days that seem more like a dream than a memory. For a minute, girl and doll existed outside their worlds; and they parted in a stupor, unsure how to react.

Emily eventually left. Night fell. Bonnie curled in her bed, fast asleep, a slew of toys wrapped in her little arms. Jessie pried herself free, scrambling to a windowsill. Moonlight dusted the room, illuminating Buzz, Woody, and Bullseye as they came to life, held too tight by Bonnie to break free.

"Jess?"

Jessie turned to them, knees gathered up in her arms. The concern on her friends' faces was diminished slightly by the arm threatening to hug them all to death. Jessie observed her current owner lovingly, and thought of the daily adoration Bonnie showed them all. She had been shown that before. And it had made a difference; Emily had proven that today. She may have been forgotten, but not obliterated from her first owner's age-worn mind.

It hurt, like it always had. But after all that time, Jessie had finally gotten closure with the girl who had loved and left her.

After a while staring at the moon, Jessie climbed lithely back into Bonnie's arms, assuring the other toys that she was okay. And for the first time since the days of claustrophobic waiting inside a box, wondering if she would ever be loved again, she really was.


End file.
